


How You Died

by MonsterPromTrash



Category: Monster Prom (Visual Novel)
Genre: Character Death, Fan theory, Gen, How Polly died, Zombies, ghost - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 16:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17026320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonsterPromTrash/pseuds/MonsterPromTrash
Summary: Polina "Polly" Geist is always telling people how she died... always laughing and joking... and always lying, changing her story every time. But what if a certain green someone knew the real truth... and was dying to share?





	How You Died

**Author's Note:**

> In Monster Prom, Polly keeps changing her story about how she died and it's obviously a running joke... so I thought I'd cook up a reason as to why she feels the need to.... Hope you enjoy! I love these characters :)

“Hahaha! That’s how I died!”

I know you’re lying...

Also, besides the lie, I can’t help but noticing you again. It’s your voice, I guess. You can get so noisy… but I don’t say it as a bad thing. I mean, I found it annoying at first. I tend to space out a lot, lost in my own thoughts afar from everything until something brings me back into the real world. At some point I noticed that your voice was one of the things that did that for me most of time. Because, you know... you’re noisy as hell. But it ended up being less of an annoyance and more of some weird kind of comfort zone for me. Your voice as the loud breadcrumbs that bring me back to everything… back to life. 

Even before hearing that joke for the first time, I had thoughts about talking to you about how you died. I felt I had to tell you I knew. But every time I started thinking how could I approach the matter, I ended up having long conversations with you inside my head, trapped there as always. Sometimes even it was you, as usual, who got me out of it. “Hey, zombie boy, whassup with you?”. Always the same answer: “nothing.” But it wasn’t nothing. It was fucking everything, Polly. And I have a hard time facing my day to day afterlife, so I can’t imagine how could I handle this… this fucking everything between you and I.

And you know what? I do remember the first time I heard you lying about your death. First I was confused: “why is she lying? What’s with that story?”. Then, after I heard you coming up with two or three more absurd reasons I finally got it was just some kind of stupid joke, or a catchphrase, or God knows what. That made me so angry… but at the same time made me be a lot more observant of you. I needed to know why you were joking about such a thing. Thing is I never had put much thought into it, but I realized death was kind of a serious issue for me. 

And so I started to get upset every time I heard you say that goddamn joke. And I hate being upset, so each time I tried to filter my anger, to find a calm place within my mind. The stillness of the lake that’s close to my house; one of Elliott Smith songs; the breeze on my face while riding on the car with my family… that breeze… “Zombie booooy, wake up! We can’t lose you a second time! C’mon, seize the day or whatever they say now! You only live twice, or whatever”. Oof. 

I talked to Vera about it. What a stupid idea. Vera is just as helpful as… hmpf… as something that’s not helpful at all. She’s always bossing me around, complaining I let life happens instead of, dunno, setting up goals and the kind of stuff she does all the time. For some time she tried to “improve” me as she would have said. I guess she can’t always succeed, huh? Thing is all that frustration about me being a slack led to some kind of weird spark spurring inside of her. And you know what? I might not chase any kind of ambitious goal by myself; but if the chance comes knocking at my door, who am I to ignore it? No unexpected true love came out of that thing between us… but fuck it, I’d say both of us got some nice benefits from it, as she would say. 

Thing is, once after one of our sudden encounters, I talked to Vera about it. For a second I saw so many things dancing relentlessly and mysteriously inside her eyes. I am no idiot: Vera and you are thicker than thieves, and you are one of the few people around whom Vera seems to be a pretty decent monster being. And so I know she cares. I told Vera about it, and then this silence… it lasted just a fraction of a second, but it was… it was like super loud, you know? For once, I realized she already knew about how you died. Of course, you tell each other everything, right? You are these disaster sisters, with this bond… I’ve seen you also have a fling thing going on, similar to what I have with Vera. No, it’s different… Vera rarely talk to me aside of when we… happen to run into each other. But not you, you tell everything to each other. I would be pretty sure you’re the real deal together if it wasn’t because Oz seems to be also in the picture for you. I saw that too. 

Fuck. Do I care? I want to tell myself I’m an observant person… I perceive stuff. Or is it just me justifying myself and denying that I might care on the fact you have some people you seem to connect with and I’m not one of them. Do I believe you should connect with me? After all… what do they really know about how you died? Ugh, what’s up with me? And, now I realize I actually felt annoyed in a weird way when I realized Vera already knew about how you REALLY died. Even if it was just by looking at her eyes for an instant. Thing is that instant passed, an instant in which I saw Vera not only knowing the truth, but also thinking on how to react because she really cares for you. 

“Who cares, you lazy idiot? Anyway you won’t do anything about it, as usual. So why I have to waste my time on giving advice that will be not followed? Hard pass.”

Geez. In any case… why I am telling you this? Is this me wanting to make you jealous by telling you I have something going on with Vera? Do I want to catch your attention? Oof, I’m the worst. No, no… a calm place. Like Elliott Smith singing:

“Drink up with me now and forget all about  
The pressure of days, do what I say  
And I'll make you okay and drive them away  
The images stuck in your head”

Drive… like when we were driving back from vacation. And the breeze, the breeze on my face. That breeze… think of it. 

Do you know I know? I asked this myself many times too. Are you pretending you don’t know, same way you pretend with all the stupid lies about how you died. Maybe you pretend you don’t know I know Or maybe that’s just me wanting to create a fantasy where you secretly notice me. It’s all another facade of yours and in reality you’re like me… having all these mental conversations with me the same way I have them with you. 

No… probably you don’t see me. You didn’t see me. And it feels so… unfair. I remember so well the first time I saw you. That’s the whole deal… the fact I’m pretty sure you didn’t notice me back then… and it hurts. Do you notice me? But how the fuck will you notice me if I spend more time talking to you in my head than I’ve talked to you in real life. 

It’s horrible. If anything, I tend to be calm about everything… why is that you make me lose balance, throw away my signature chillness to this point? It’s fuckin’ embarrasing.

I went to Vic for advice. She also knows a bit about death and afterlife, so maybe she could be a bit more insightful than Vera. 

“I don’t know, Brian… death is complicated. It can get quite traumatic, you know? And even when it’s not, it just feels weird talking about it. My thing wasn’t as dramatic as what you have just told me, and still I have some issues about it. It’s like… hm… well, that’s the point: I just don’t feel like talking about it.”

“But… but…”

“But you feel like you have to talk about it, huh? Then talk about it. Maybe you need some kind of closure. Go talk to her, maybe there’s something else going on? I get it. It sounds quite an intense thing. Go check. Respect her if she doesn’t want to talk about it; but it might be worth the chance, who knows?”

“Maybe you’re right. Or maybe you just want me to make a move on Polly so you can make a move on Vera, hehe.”

“Oh, boy… believe me I don’t need any diversion to make a move on Vera. But sure, you need to make your silly jokes to avoid thinking too much about it, I get it.”

“Shut up, Vic.”

“Gotcha!”

She was right. She always is… that’s her thing, I guess. So that’s why I’ve come here, to talk to you… to tell you. And I was about to do it, so close, almost saying “Hey, Polly…” inside my head. And then the joke. You were talking to someone and you joked again. “Hahahaha, sure boo, I know a lot about piranhas and expired burritos… that’s how I died!”. Fuck, fuck, fuck… It upsets me so much and I don’t quite get why it makes me so angry while I get so obsessed on you at the same time… oof, I can’t with it… I need my calm place. Like… like Elliott Smith singing:

“Drink up one more time and I'll make you mine  
Keep you apart, deep in my heart  
Separate from the rest, where I like you the best  
And keep the things you forgot”

“The things you forgot”. Ah… I wish I could forget… like that breeze on my face, that day in the car. The breeze… and then, suddenly, the noise. I hate noise. It’s so annoying, same way the noise of your voice annoyed me at first. But not anymore. Not like that other noise… the crash. The breeze and then the noise… I was so calm and all of a sudden everything changed. The other car hit us so hard that we got the worst part of it. None of us survived. I think I was the last one to go. I remember: my ears were ringing so hard… I didn’t understand a thing. I was so confused and somehow I could only think on how the quiet was gone, the breeze was gone… just the red on my eyes, the ring on my ears. 

And then you. 

I didn’t realize until I saw you a second time at Spooky High. But now I know: it was you… in the other car. No, you didn’t notice me, you were already gone by then. I shouldn’t be mad at you… it weren’t you behind the wheel after all. But it’s not that… I think this feeling, this annoying feeling started the second time I saw you, because it struck me so hard and yet I realized you had no idea we met before… under those circumstances. It bothered me… and then your jokes and my inability to understand why you joke about it. Why that is a joke for you while it obsesses me this much. It feels so unfair…

I might not know why; but I know you’re lying. If I could only tell you...

“Heeeey, Zombie boy! You’re not a corpse, you’re a zombie, enjoy afterlife a bit! Why so blue? What happens?”

“...nothing.”

And… and that’s how we died.


End file.
